


Crossfire

by Syao



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Torture, Dragons, M/M, Magic-Users, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syao/pseuds/Syao
Summary: The magic world and the modern world coexist, however the modern world is left unaware of the magic and the people who can wield it. The magical world has broken up into different magic societies that protect and blend their magic users into the modern world. Some societies culture war and chaos, others focus on magical advances. Not all magic users are welcome, due to their particular bloodlines being rare or powerful, and are know as ‘rouges’.All Shiro wants to do is to be left alone, but the rest of the world either wants to use his rare magic to benefit themselves or kill him so others may not wield him.





	Crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for months. I have a few chapters done but not even close to being finished, this will be a monster.  
> I will have NO set updates. I will update when I can but I work full time and go to school full time, this is just my hobby.  
> Semi beta'd by my friends.  
> This story will be Sheink endgame with side Plance. If you don't like those ships then this fic may not be for you.  
> This is planned to go 18+ in later chapters. Slow burn for a reason.  
> Anyway, please enyjoy!

**Ch.1 Clouds**

 

The roar of the crowd fades to weak muffled tones and back to deafening like someone had turned the volume dial on a speaker. The ghouls in front of him swam in and out of focus as he tried to balance on his feet. How long had he been out in the ring this time? How many undead horrors were thrown at him this time? After a quick step forwards to keep himself from falling, the whelp growled low to try and clear his head. Keen grey eyes swept across the ring,  _ focus _ . Only three ghouls were his opponents, their rotting flesh barely hanging onto protruding bones, with bandages wrapped around the majority of their bodies to keep everything together.

 

The whelp was exhausted, yet he persisted. Staggering he faced his opponents, drawing at the power deep inside him, willing his weary body to handle the stress of partial transformation once more. His senses sharpened, pale human limbs growing deep violet scales and razor claws. Growling viciously the whelp charged at the nearest ghoul, slashing up hard with his left claw cleanly severing its limb as his right grasped its neck. He swiftly turned his body swinging the ghoul with enough force to tear the rotting creature's head from its body. The body flew into another ghoul smashing it down hard onto the arena ground, rotten limbs flying in random directions. A haunting groan sounded from behind the whelp. Pivoting allowed the whelp to avoid the remaining ghoul’s lunge at him, countering it by shattering what remained of a jaw with a scaled punch to the face. The ghoul's head lolled unnaturally back but still advanced toward the whelp, slower than before. He was panting hard, sweat rolling off his body mixing in with blood, vile and dirt. His body was at its limits, fatigue coursing through his limbs. With one final slash of his claws the remaining ghoul crumpled to the ground in a pile of decaying flesh and bone. The whelp’s vision blacked out as the ground came rushing to meet him.

  
  


_ "Shiro, my young one, my ember heart, listen to me."  _

_ Strong familiar arms pulled the young whelp close, protecting him from the chill of the night’s breeze.  _

_ "There are bad people out there who are after you. They want your power, they want your strength, they want to control you or kill you." _

_ "Why?" The young whelp questioned, looking to his brood mother with large grey eyes. _

_ "They fear what you are, they fear what you will become, they fear your power." She spoke softly, an edge of sorrow tinting her words.  "My ember heart, look up. What do you see?" _

_ The young whelp gazed up as he tentatively answered, "The sky." _

_ "Yes," The brood mother chuckled, "But really look at it."  _

_ The whelp tilted his small head back to observe the sky. He looked past the dark needle trees, past the soft deep red clouds, and into the vibrant night sky. Deep violet made way to indigo in the center of his vision. Arching across the sky was the belt of blended dusty colors: violet, pink, cream, and orange. Clusters of pinpricks of soft light concentrated along the belt in varying size as hundreds of others sporadically blanketed the rest of the night.  _

_ "That up there is your future. Your home. My ember heart, you may not feel it now but when you're older and your wings are ready, you will feel it call for you. That up there is where you will belong. All that you can see, and much that you can't, is your home. Your domain. You will be safe up there away from the people who seek to harm you. So when you are older and you feel the call, go and don't come back down." _

 

Shiro slowly regained consciousness, blinking to clear his vision. He was back in his drab cell lying on the small lumpy cot in the corner. He wore standard issue black skin tight shorts, the only clothes he was given.  He uncurled himself from the ball he slept in, stretching his aching limbs up toward the sky he so longed to see. He yearned to go outside, even for a brief moment. It had been so long since he last saw the sky, felt the soft embrace of wind through his hair, basked in the warmth of the sun, touched the cool morning dew on the grass. He missed color. Here was all whites, grays, blacks, and purples. What he would do to see a splash of orange, a dash of spring green, or the sun rise with its myriad of soft pinks, yellows and blues.  Just to see the sky once more, that would be a reward he would be proud to kill for.

 

Shiro had the day off from arena battles today, a well needed break from the daily fights. Just because he was off from the arena didn’t mean that it was a leisure day for him. He was summoned to see Haggar and that in itself was just as daunting as arena battles. Haggar is the right-hand woman of the leader of the Galran society and the head of the void mages. She is incredibly cruel and uses her magic to experiment on living and nonliving things. She specializes in draining the life out of living beings and using that life quintessence to fuel her attempts to nullify the magic of others. Haggar likes to toy with Shiro, not in the way he is toyed with in the arena, tasked to combat hundreds of undead, she makes him transform as far as he is able then attacks him with new magic to nullify his transformation. Shiro, being a dragon shifter, is endowed with natural defenses against magic that non-magical animal shifters lack. Even if her playing isn't physically taxing, Shiro is still left mentally fatigued.

 

Knowing he only had a few more minutes before Hagger's underlying mages came for him, Shiro forced his protesting limbs to move as he got out of the cot. He made his way to the small bucket on the other side of the cell to relieve himself. When he was done, he sat down with his back to the wall facing the cell door munching on a bland grey food bar. It tasted like cardboard but it was packed with nutrients to keep his body in a good healthy state. The Galran couldn't afford what was likely the last dragon shifter to die when their goal was to make Shiro their powerful pet.

 

Shiro didn't know how long he had been here as a “pet-in-training” for the Galran society, but at least twice as many summers from when he was born. Some would say he was not a whelp anymore, his growing limbs had filled out with rich muscle, his voice felt like there was cotton caught in it as his vocal cords lengthened slowly deepening his voice. Every day he could feel his body be just a bit stronger, faster, sturdier even through the aches and pains of the arena.

Shiro was growing into a stunning man, soon to be a breathtaking young dragon. He was maturing and even if full transformation was not within reach he was close, only a few weeks prior he had been able to summon his wings for the first time. Since then he slowly was hearing the call of the sky, it had started off as such a faint whisper he thought he was imagining it. Now it was a constant nagging hum in the back of his mind. He had to be patient, yes the sky called to him, yes he was maturing but he was not ready, the call was still too weak.

 

The door of his cell slowly creaked on its hinges, bringing Shiro out of his thoughts. Two black cloaked mages gracefully walked in. Smooth oval masks with four purple glowing eyes covered their faces, rendering their identities a mystery. That was fine by Shiro, even if he couldn't see them, their smell was so tainted with magical nothingness, he could still identify them.

Shiro slowly got up from his position on the floor walking toward his cell door and the two mages calmly. He had done this enough to be routine, to be trusted not to fight back, trusted not to be in restraints. They had trained him well, he would not fight back. Such a good little pet he was. It disgusted him, but what else could he do? Too long had he fought against them, too young and weak to do anything. Better to do as they wanted, be the good little pet, let them think they broke him, and bide out his time to use those skills they trained into him against them. Now was not the time, the sky's call was still too weak, his body not mature enough yet. But soon he would be. Soon he would fight back. Soon...

 

A mage outside the door took the lead as the two mages inside the cell followed behind Shiro in a triangular formation. None of them made any sounds, Shiro trained to walk without sound and the mages seemed to glide across the ground. They walked silently down the purple lit hallways, down the same path to Haggar's lab they took every time. Shiro was sure he could walk this path in his sleep by now.  The tension slowly built till they reached the large black door of Haggar's lab. Shiro was mentally preparing himself for what would come, however was thrown off when they continued past the door to the lab down the end of the hallway and stopped at a solid silver door. The thick door swung open on its own accord and the lead mage stepped aside, nodding its head ever so slightly to indicate Shiro would be going in first this time.

 

Shiro cautiously entered the lab, nimble eyes scanning the room all senses on high alert. The room was sterile white. A large metal table sat in the middle with blinding white lamps directly over head. Haggar had her back to the door, her dark purple cloak covering her wiry frame as she meddled with some tools on a small rolling table.

"Welcome little lizard, it seems you have yet to be acquainted with this room." 

The slightly raspy words seemed to slither in the air as Hagger turned to face them. Long white hair framed her unnaturally pale face, the hood of her cloak covering her eyes from view.

"Come."

She commanded as she gestured toward the metal table with a flick of her willowy hand. Shiro followed the order like the good pet he was, striding toward the table with false bravo. The metal was cool against his bare skin as he sat down at the edge. Hagger's rough ice cold hand pushed Shiro all the way down on the table. He was now laying down on his back, the lights above blinding him. A wave of unease swept over Shiro as he lay completely at the Void mage's mercy. This was new, this broke up the routine he had gotten used to. Fear coursed through his veins when hidden metal clamps tied his limbs and chest down, he attempted to pull them free but to no avail.  He was tied down too tight.

 

"Instead of having our usual fun, we are going to be doing something different." Hagger spat, clearly annoyed. 

Shiro turned his head to see the three underlings slowly drift to the corners of the table. 

"Lord Zarkon is not pleased to hear how long it is taking for you to completely shift. So," She grinned madly "let's see if we can't force you to shift!"

Shiro's heart rate spiked at her words, pupils dilating in fear. Force him to shift? What? It shouldn't be possible.

The mages raised their arms, bringing their hands in front of their masks. They drew upon their power, bright violet smoke dancing around their splayed fingers. Haggar leaned over Shiro's face as her icy hand forced his head back, violet smoke swirling around her fingers. 

"Let's have some fun.

 

Shiro's body went rigid, mouth agape as his mind took a second to process what was flooding his senses. A choked gasp somehow got through his tight throat before a blood curdling scream was wrenched out. Pain. Excruciating pain. It consumed all his senses, twisted through all his nerve endings. His blood felt like it was boiling and his skin on fire. The pain burned relentlessly. His muscles seized, spasming against the binds. Shiro felt like the mages were trying to pull his body apart limb from limb. Shiro could feel Hagger seeking out his dragon side, her presence leaving a trail of ice so freezing it burned worse than any fire he felt. The insufferable pain continued for what felt like hours. Then all but vanished from his body, instead concentrating all on his right arm. The condensed pain was too much for Shiro to handle. His eyes rolled back into his head, throat raw and bleeding from violent over use. His right arm felt like it was stuck only half shifted then dipped in acid.

 

Barely hanging onto consciousness, Shiro heard Hagger click her tongue in annoyance. 

"Again."

Shiro jolted awake, the call of the sky jerking him from sleep. Even when he was resting, the sky continued to call for him. It was interfering with his sleep, getting the bare minimum amount of rest to function. He glanced down to his right arm, what used to be a human skin was now smooth deep purple scales. From his bicep down was now his shifted dragon arm. His hand more akin to a paw, long sturdy fingers with soft thick pads and razor sharp claws. It had been months since his time with the Void mage where she attempted to force a shift out of him. Only his right arm shifted and was permanently shifted. The rest of their attempts at forcing Shiro to shift resulted only in failure. Try they did, again and again, until his throat bled and flesh burned.

 

Growling in frustration, Shiro heaved himself out of the small cot in his cell. He was twitchy, body too full of energy meant for fight yet he could not fly. He began to pace along the wall adjacent to the door. Sharp grey eyes trained to the door, waiting for it to open, to lead him out of this room. He felt trapped, too confined to his small cell.  He needed open space, he needed the sky. He could no longer ignore the call. Yet he was stuck, confined to a cell with not even a window to see the sky. No matter how hard the sky pulled or screamed out to him, he couldn't do anything. He felt as though he was a puzzle, all the pieces in place but one, that last piece was being stubborn and not fitting. It was driving him to the brink of insanity.

 

He became constantly agitated, irritable, and rebellious. Shiro had not been this aggravated since his initial capture. He was sure news of his sudden disobedience spikes had made its way to the higher ups.

 

Shiro lost track of time, anxiously pacing along the wall waiting for something, anything to ease the call. The heavy footsteps of someone approaching his cell door halted his pacing. The clang of the door handle unlocking set Shiro off. Grey eyes trained to the door, a low growl rumbling out of his chest, upper lip pulled back to show a half shifted mouth full of long sharp teeth. The cell door swung open cautiously, as to not upset the temperamental dragon shifter.  A necromancer appeared in the entryway not passing the threshold of the cell. They wore a floor length pristine plum robe, large hood pulled down over most of their face.

 

"Come," they commanded with an air of authority.

 

Shiro slowly stalked toward the door, teeth still bared but his growling had cested. The necromancer stepped aside to let the dragon shifter pass out of his cell before he was flanked by two crypt fiends. Shiro instantly knew he was being summoned somewhere important. A necromancer had to be quite powerful to summon and control a crypt fiend, the necromancer here was easily controlling two. The two crypt fiends clicked at the dragon shifter to get in line. Shiro eyed them with disdain but begrudgingly fell into place in the center of the two cryptids, their summoner just behind him.

 

Shiro hated cryptids, they were intelligent sadistic undead monstrosities. They looked like a lab experiment gone wrong, where someone had fused a human and an arachnid together, mummified it and brought it back to life. The lower half of their body was similar to a large spider, puke green abdomen and cephalothorax with four spike ridden legs. The top half was more similar to a human with a dull gray human like torso fused to the cephalothorax and two human arms which were slightly shorter than normal. Their heads were heavily wrapped in old molding gauze, only four beady black eyes and two chelicerae were left uncovered. They reeked of death, decay and the sharp pang of rancid poison.

 

The two cryptids clicked tauntingly at the dragon shifter as they escorted him somewhere unknown. Shiro desperately wanted to fight back, their sharp jabs and hissing were getting on the last few nerves that remained. He knew rebelling now would lead him down an unpleasant path, especially since he was being escorted by such a high ranking necromancer and not the usual guards. Shiro was being taken to someone important, and it would be in his best interest to wait and see exactly who he was being summoned to.

 

They soon approached two large silver doors engraved with eccentric designs of death and necromancy. The cryptids pushed open the doors revealing a grand hall illuminated by lavender flames suspended in mid air. High ranking necromancers lined the hall, all donning similar plum robes as the one who escorted the dragon shifter. A plush deep purple rug ran the length of the hall ending at the foot of a regal black thrown. On either side of the throne a Val'kyr  hovered. Their ethereal bodies of past spirits, glowed an eerie violet. Minimal black armor barely covered their hips, chest and faces as their great white wings beat the air. Angels of pure nightmare that required the highest skill and power of a necromancer to summon and control. Only one necromancer could control them, the same necromancer who had killed Shiro's brood mother and enslaved him, the same necromancer who ruled the Galran society, the same necromancer who was leisurely posed on the throne. Lord Zarkon.

 

Lord Zarkon was deathly grace. Decked out in blood red casual robes with intricate silver patterns. His short jet black hair was swept back, out of his pale face. He had a strong jaw line, thick eyebrows, and piercing magenta eyes that were evaluating Shiro. Raising an index finger, he beckoned the dragon shifter to step forward.

 

Shiro took measured steps forward, aware all eyes in the room were trained on him. The closer he got to Zarkon the more his senses were overpowered by raw magic and perpetual death that clung to the very air. The dragon shifter sunk down to his knees a few meters away from the thrown, head down in respect. His ears picked up the sound of sifting fabric, before a large rough warm hand tilted his head up. Zarkon kneeled down in front of the dragon shifter his hand gently caressing his cheek. Shiro closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, after being starved of gentle touch Shiro indulged in his master unusually kind touch.

 

"My pet, you seem to be restless." Zarkon's deep baritone voice echoed in the grand hall. 

He tightly grasped Shiro's face. 

"Plus I grow weary waiting for you to fully shift, so I have a proposition for you. Would you like to hear it?" 

Shiro nodded.

 

"If you defeat a challenger in the arena, I will let you see the sky."

Shiro's pupils dilated in lust, mouth salivating at the words. The sky, Shiro would be able to see the sky as a reward? After so long of being hidden, he could finally see it? The sky's call was so strong Shiro would do anything and everything to heed its call. Zarkon noticing the dragon shifter's enthusiasm toward the reward, grinned wickedly. He knew he had the dragon shifter. 

"The challenger is prisoner of ours, they are on just shy of being on par with my magic. It will not be an easy fight, but the reward should suffice. Will you take it?"

 

"Yes. Yes master. I will do anything, let me see the sky, please master." Shiro exhaled, words stumbling into each other. Shiro needed to see the sky, he was at his limit.

 

"Well then," Zarkon eased his touch back to gentle, caressing the dragon shifter one last time before standing to his full glory, "we shall prepare the arena."

 

~~~~~

 

Zarkon watched as the once proud man and leader of one of the greatest societies, roused from his magic induced slumber. Long white hair in disarray, his natural dark tanned skin had a sickly sheen to it, muscular body chained with magic dampening cuffs to the cold wall.

 

"Have a nice nap, Alfor?" Zarkon asked amused.

 

"Quite lovely, the personal service was very gentle as well." Alfor sarcastically replied.

 

"Hmm well you will most certainly enjoy the entertainment of the night then." Alfor glared at Zarkon.

 

"Ho? Will I be watching or participating?"

 

"Participating, it's good to join in the fun every once and awhile."

 

"Ah yes, do I get the luxury of knowing my co-entertainer?"

 

"You can finally meet my pet you so desperately wanted to take from me. He has not seen the sky since I took him in. Should be a very amusing show."

 

"You took the sky from a dragon? You are playing with a pandora's box."

 

"Is that not the point?"

~~~~~~

The arena stadium was more packed than Shiro had ever seen it. The roar of the crowd drowned out the announcer, hurting Shiro's heightened hearing. Glancing around, he noticed several Val'krys flying the perimeter and the void druids constantly casting a powerful magic barrier. Whoever Shiro was to fight, was someone with immense power, if the arena's defenses were this strong.  

 

Shiro stood tall and proud, the gate that he entered through closed behind him as the magic barrier sealed him in. He took several deep breathes to calm his raging nerves. This would be the first time he would face such a powerful opponent and the chances of him losing and dying were great. But Shiro couldn't die yet, not until he saw the sky one last time. A dragon that lived its life without seeing the sky was no dragon. He was determined to win this match, his life, his pride as a dragon, rode on the outcome of this match. Shiro was determined to win, not because Lord Zarkon told him to, but because he must see the sky.

 

The gates on the opposite side of the arena, screeched as they slowly opened. Shiro crouched down, sharp eyes trained to the slowly approaching figure. Shiro's opponent seemed to be male, middle aged, and walking with a slight limp. His long white hair was tangled, his tanned skin covered in dried blood and dirt. He wore torn light blue pants with a gold and white tunic that was slashed and stained with deep red blood.  His well trimmed white beard framed his hard jaw line, his deep blue eyes held a sad resolve. He was a prisoner on death row, pride and determination was all that held his head high. The man walked with an air of grace, even with his slight limp, his presence commanded respect.

 

Energy from a twisted excitement to be in a high stakes fight to the death match, pulsed through Shiro as the gates closed behind the man.  The man stood still, watching Shiro in his crouched position from across the arena. Shiro's body tensed, ready to pounce into action if the man made any move to strike. They held their positions for what seemed to stretch on for minutes, tention in the air building so thick you could cut it with a dull blade. Shiro drowned out the roar of the crowd, pushed back the insufferable screaming of the sky, and focused all his attention on his opponent.

 

After what seemed like eons, the man's hands twitched, the potent scent of magic filled the air and Shiro launched himself at the man. His body thrummed with magic as is limbs shifted, soft skin and dull nails replaced with hard scales and sharp claws. Shiro dashed toward his opponent with incredible speed, lips pulled back in a snarl. The man raised his arms to the sky, his aura of blue magic entwining his outstretched limbs. The ceiling of the arena crackled and sparked with his magic. Shiro was almost at the man when he swiftly planted his feet shoulder width apart and squatted down in a powerful rush of magic. The man grimaced, his muscles straining, sweat beading his forehead as he tore the air of the arena open. Shiro glanced up, his mind momentarily filled with awe as the heavens sky had torn a shimmering hole in the air above the arena. With one fist pound to the ground, something dropped down to the arena on Shiro' left side, its impact shook the whole arena, then one dropped down to his right.

 

Shiro refocused his attention on the man, whatever this man's magic was it seemed to be a controller type like the necromancers Shiro was used to. Controller type wielded and commanded great and powerful things, but them themselves were vulnerable to attacks. If Shiro could reach the controller and take them out before the summoned beings could attack, it was Shiro's win.

 

Shiro was suddenly flung into the air, he hit the side of the arena so hard the magic barrier cracked. The impact knocked all the air from his lungs, he could feel something snap inside him, pain racing down his spine. He choked in air, immediately coughing it out with fresh bright red blood that dripped out of his mouth and down his neck. Shiro fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. his vision was blurry, the roar of the crowd louder than ever, the sky's call overwhelming his mind.

 

Shiro staggered to his feet, focus. He gritted his teeth to endure the pain, his magic draining rapidly to hold his half transformation  as he shifted a layer of deep purple scales all over his exposed back and chest. He sensed the summoned things draw near him, Shiro leapt blindly to the side, rolling out of the way from being flattened to the ground. Shiro's vision was starting to clear, and shiro assessed the grave situation he was in.

 

Standing in between him and the mage were two giants made from the very cosmos themselves wielding great hammers of newborn stars. Their humanoid forms were slightly see through but seemed to be made of the night sky and stars shiro remembered from his youth. The dark blues and purples flowed into pastel pinks, oranges and blues.  The longer he gazed upon their bodies the more he longed to see the sky, the feel the wind under wing. The sky's call was so unbearable now, over riding every nerve in his body, screaming for the sky and with the mock night in his opponents only drove him more insane.

 

It was too hard for Shiro to think, he needed the sky, it blinded him and drove him. He dashed toward one of the cosmic giants dodging its mighty hammer to get close to it and strike. A swift strong kick from it sent Shiro flying back. He landed on his hind legs leaving grove marks in the floor of the arena, blood dripping down his chest and spotting on the ground. Shiro launched himself again at the giants, uncaring how his body was faring all he could think about was the sky and these beings were in the way from him seeing the sky.

 

Hit after hit, Shiro's body was twisted and mangled, his magic almost out due to the sheer amount it took to keep his body partially shifted, but he could care less. As long as he could move, his purpose was the sky.

 

One of the giants swung their hammer hard into Shiro, crushing him beneath the weight of a star. This was it for Shiro, he would die a failure of a dragon, all he wanted was to see the sky one last time and to be able to fully shift.  As the hammer crushed him, the sky's call burned his nerves and lit his body on fire, so overwhelming he could do nothing but burn in the sky's wake. Then like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place, something clicked in Shiro's mind. The barriers that made Shiro fight his magic up stream to use it flowed freely now. The magic easily rushed through his veins changing him, shifting him. His body grew, bones reshaping muscles rebuilding, scales grew instead of skin. It felt right, it felt good. No, more than good, it felt like coming home. Shiro was finally whole. He was lighter, stronger, his senses heightened, his scales tougher, yet there was still something missing.

 

_ The sky. _

 

It no longer called for him. It pulled him. It flooded him with new strength to fight back, to survive, to push back and spread his great wings and soar in it. His mind was clear of all distractions, nothing would get in the way of him reaching the sky. This new magic, this new power, this new Shiro, was unstoppable. The arena barriers, the mages, the armies of undead horrors, the celestial mage and his two giants couldn't stop him. No shiro would fight with this new power, with everything he could til his last dying breath to reach the sky.

 

_ The sky. The sky. The sky. It calls for me. It cries out for me. It bleeds for me.  The sky. The sky. The sky. I must go to the sky. _

 

With a great burst of strength, Shiro shoved at the hammer crushing him. His long razor claws sinking into the starlight, cracking the head with its force. They struggled for what seemed like an eternity before the hammer shattered into pieces and Shiro launched himself in the air. The crowd went wild as they saw shiro's true form for the first time.

 

The dragon was as big as a large horse, with a long lithe body and great wings built for flight. His body was covered in smooth deep purple scales, no larger than the size of a human thumb, so dark they were almost black, but his underbelly and wings were a deep shade of lilac.  The dragons first most right limb was discolored, a jagged mess of dark and light lavender.  A fleshy pink scar ran across the dragons catlike snout, and was one of the only areas not covered in scales. Two sets of smooth twisted slate grey horns protruded from the curve of the dragons brow. Just below the horns on the jaw line small frilled scenting spikes, like whiskers, felt the air.  Small ridges ran up the center of the dragon's forehead leading into the great flexible spikes that ran down his entire spine to tip of tail. Between these spines were thick lilac hide, that worked like sails of a boat to catch and shift air, they could be flattened down against the body. The tip of the tail was covered in a parallel sets of matching spikes like those down his back, they were stronger and used to quickly maneuver the dragon in the air.   

Hovering in the air with great beats of his wings, Shiro swiveled his head over the arena below him. The mage was kneeling down on the opposite side of the field sweat beaded and rolled down his grimacing face and into his matted white beard. One hand was wrapped firmly around his middle the other outstretched to control the two giants standing in between him and Shiro. The man was gravely injured when they sent him in, if he kept up this level of magic, it would drain him to death.

 

_ The sky. They sky. I must go to the sky. It calls to me, I must answer it. _

 

Opening his jaws, the dragon howled at the ceiling, longing deep in its call. With a flick of his wings the dragon raced toward the magic barrier of the arena. He collided with sparks of magic, claws lashing out but the barrier held. The dragon tried again and again with the same results the barrier held. Letting out a frustrated cry the dragon slammed into the barrier only to have the Val'krys throw him to the ground. The dragon landed slumped to the arena floor near the mage.

They wanted him to fight the mage not the magic barrier.

 

"You need to go to the sky, don't you?" The mage asked, his voice strained with exhaustion. The dragon was already on his feet, lips pulled back in a snarl, tail whipping back and forth. The stormy grey eyes locked onto the older mage.

 

"You are on the brink of madness, I can see it in your eyes. This cage they have kept you in can no longer contain you. You need freedom, you need the sky."

 

_ The sky. The sky. It calls to me, and I am unable to go to it. The sky. The sky. _

 

"One of us is going to die here. If you die now, you will never know the taste of freedom. I have lived long enough, I am already on the brink of death, I will help you." The man struggled to his feet, his face pained but determined.

 

The two giants walked toward them, their footfalls thundering the arena. The dragon growled out a warning as the giants closed in. The man raised both arms toward the ceiling, the power of the stars in his hands and with a loud shout of a tongue the young dragon could not understand the heavens opened above. One of the giants scattered into cosmic dust and rushed toward the opening of the magic space.

 

Blue. Soft blue.

 

The Void mages swarmed the arena, the Val'kyr flying down toward them as the remaining giant picked up the young dragon and threw him into the heavens. The dragon was transfixed on the vast blue he was ejected into. The heavens closing just behind him before the Val'kyr got him, before he could look down at the arena and see the old mage speared through the heart. Instead the dragon looked down all he saw was open grass fields, waving their long stalks in the wind.

 

"Welcome home young one" the sky embraced him. The wind under wing lifted him. Home. He was finally home. With one powerful beat of his wings and a flick of his rudder like tail, the dragon was soaring high into the sky away from the ground, away from the previous life, he was free and no one will stand in his way ever again.


End file.
